Finding la Giostra
by wannalatte
Summary: It wasn't Scipio's plan to remain an adult forever.
1. Scipio Fortunato

Song: Cayman Islands by The Kings of Convenience

Winter was Venice's bitter sister, but the two of them together could be enchantingly beautiful at times. Scipio stared into the pale night sky, thick with snow clouds. He watched as the little flurries drifted downwards towards his face and then continued trudging along the thinly snow-coated path.

He carried a box with a tiny dog yapping inside. It had taken one day to find the rascal, but he had done it. He usually preferred cats to dogs. They were less noisy.

Life as a detective was fun at first. Victor had warned him that it would become boring, but Scipio had paid no mind. He was sure it was exciting, at least more exciting than pretending to be the Thief Lord as a child. He was sure that it would be more fun. After all, he would be grown-up. An adult with a job, and a sneaky one, too.

After a year, he discovered there were downsides of being so grown-up. He still missed being a child, with hardly any worries in the world. Now as a grown-up, he has bigger responsibilities laid down upon him. He has to help pay bills and people expect more from him. He is expected to act like a proper gentleman and help old ladies with their groceries. He is expected to be clean up after himself. Victor had trouble with him in the beginning of his detective days, teaching him the ways of an adult. It had not been easy, because Scipio had grown up as the son of one of the richest men in Venice.

Just because Scipio had learned the way of adulthood, he knew he would always be different than other people. He was a child trapped in an adult's body. His body matured faster than his mind could. It was a race between his brain and the rest of his body. Only his brain would never catch up.

Scipio had tried to enjoy the things that most adults seemed to enjoy. He bought his first pack of cigarettes and lighter, without telling Victor. He remembered as he awkwardly held the foreign object in his hand in an alley, the paper crinkling as he rolled it back and forth between his fingers. He remembered thinking that he was finally becoming a real adult. He flicked the lighter on and off trying to light the darn thing and nearly burned his fingers off in the process. After having seen the long, wispy smoke that trailed out, carried by the wind, he put the cigarette to his lips and breathed the smoke in.

How awful it was! The dark, smoky cloud had filled his lungs, choking him. He sputtered and coughed. His eyes watered. _How did adults do it?_ he wondered as he tossed the cigarettes in the trash.

Sometimes Scipio noticed that he didn't know things that a person his age should know. He didn't know how much you tipped a person at a restaurant. He didn't know politics and fancy words like _elucidate_ and _troglodyte_. He was lost in the world of adulthood.

When he went to visit his old friends from the Star-Palace, he also couldn't relate. He looked too old for them. Hornet, Prosper and Bo were all attending school and lived with Ida Spavento. Mosca and Riccio were living in Castello, still orphans and were taking care of themselves. They knew he was Scipio, but he was not the Scipio they remembered.

He wondered if little Barbarossa, Renzo and Morosina felt the same way. He wondered where they were now. He honestly didn't care if the little redlocks returned to Venice, but Renzo and Morosina didn't seem to be so bad. He wondered if they had managed to repair the merry-go-round. He would have given anything to take another ride.

He returned to Victor's apartment and office, glancing at the sign outside the door.

VICTOR GETZ

AND

SCIPIO FORTUNATO

PRIVATE DETECTIVES

INVESTIGATIONS OF ANY KIND

Victor had also engraved his new name in the gold text after Scipio had proven to be a successful and reputable detective. Scipio remembered it as the end of his old life as Scipio Massimo and the start of his new life as Scipio Fortunato. It sure seemed more promising. Fortunato, the fortunate one. Scipio remembered when Prosper smiled after he first saw the new engravings on the sign. Prosper's name and Scipio's new name shared the same meaning.

He entered the apartment and set the box with the now sleeping dog on one of the two desks in the crowded room. One of the desks had papers stacked neatly in different piles. The other had papers strewn about, in every which-way, with several half finished or empty coffee cups lying around. This was the difference between Victor Getz and Scipio Fortunato. One was clean, the other, however, was not.

Luckily, the small dog had become tired of yapping, seeing as Victor was lying on the couch and snoring with his mouth wide open. Scipio had once poured some water into his mouth while he was sleeping, just to see if the water would gurgle. It did, but only for a few moments until a very angry Victor started sputtering and coughing water out of his mouth and told Scipio off for playing such a childish prank. He chuckled quietly at the memory and crept silently to the bathroom to prepare for bed.

He splashed his face with warm water and reached for a towel, passing the mirror as he did so. He froze and stared into the mirror. He saw a man staring back at him. A man with dark eyes, dark hair and a face that still contained the boyish, thin features he remembered. Soon, all of it would be gone, all because he had been rash and impatient. All of the things that make up a child. It had been two years since his ride on the wooden merry-go-round. He would have been fifteen? Sixteen? Being an adult made you loose your sense of time and age. He was determined to find the merry-go-round before it was too late.


	2. The Children in the Attic

Sometimes, if I haven't written in a while, my style of writing gets a little off... Sorry!

* * *

The first day that he was under the care of Ida Spavento as an adopted child, Bo had insisted for him, his brother, Prosper, and their friend, Hornet, to sleep in the spare room in the attic upstairs. They had been sleeping there ever since.

"It's the most magnificent room in her whole entire house," Bo declared.

It was old, but magnificent indeed in its plainness. It wasn't the room itself that had captured Bo's attention. It was the _bella luna_. He could see her from the dirty, dusty windows, bright as anything. Sometimes he said she looked like a yellow, creamy custard. Other times she looked like a bright, and pearly white.

He had placed his mattress underneath her, gazing up at her until he fell asleep.

One night, Bo could not see the _bella luna_.

He only saw a sky thick with clouds. No stars, no _bella luna._

Instead of watching the moon, he watched the snowflakes flutter down instead. He tried to count them. _One, two, three._ Hopeless. There were simply too many._  
_

He closed his eyes. His mind was too busy and his body was too full with energy. He didn't think Prosper and Hornet were sleeping either; he couldn't hear their sleepy breathing.

"Prop?" he whispered loudly.

"What, Bo?" Prop muttered.

"What do you think Scipio is doing now?"

"Dunno. What do you want with him anyway?"

"What are you two talking about?" Hornet hissed from her mattress. "I'm trying to sleep!"

"Sorry!" Bo whispered loudly again. "We're just talking about Scipio."

"Scipio? What for? We haven't seen him in ages," said Hornet as she got out of her bed.

"I miss him," said Bo sadly as Hornet crept across the room and snuggled in with him under the blankets.

"Oh, Bo," said Hornet. "He has grown-up things to do. Nothing interesting."

"I think he's lonely," said Bo. "He doesn't have anyone to play with."

"No one to play with! He's an grown-up! Grown-ups don't play, silly," said Hornet as she tapped his nose affectionately. "And besides, he's a detective. It's one big game, being a detective."

Prosper said nothing as he stared at the two lumps in the bed across from him in the dark.

"I miss him, though," said Hornet, "even if he was an arrogant ninny at times. Don't you, Prosper?"

Prosper did. Scipio was his first, real friend. "Yes. I do."

"We haven't gotten to visit him forever!" cried Bo. "School stinks." He pouted.

"Let's go visit him and Victor," said Hornet as she nuzzled Bo. "It'll be a surprise. Tomorrow's Saturday, anyway."

"Yes, let's go!" Bo agreed. "Prop, you'll come, too?"

"Of course."

* * *

Lucia packed lunches into their knapsacks and the three children set off to visit Victor and Scipio.

Ida waved from her window and called out, "_Arrivederci! _Be back before dinner!"

"We will!" Bo yelled back.

They crossed the canal to the Piazza San Marco to buy sweets from the _pasticceria_ with the pocket money that they had_._

When they arrived at Victor and Scipio's office, they used the enormous brass knocker to hammer the door a few times.

It was Victor who answered the door. "My, what a pleasant surprise."

"Hi, Victor!" said Bo as he tackled him with a big hug.

"Oof," said Victor. "Well, then. You three best come inside now. It's quite chilly today." He looked up at the white-marble sky.

"We brought you and Scipio something to eat," said Hornet as she handed him the fancy box of sweets and walked into his office.

"Where's Scipio?" asked Prosper as he peered around their flat. Bo and Hornet flopped onto Scipio's couch.

Victor let out a big _woosh_ of breath. "He's gone."

"Gone?" Hornet asked with worry. "Gone where?"

"He went to the _Isola Segreta._"

"What? When?" Hornet demanded. She stood up.

"He left two nights ago."

"Why would he ever go back there?" asked Prosper.

"He didn't say. The only thing he _did _say was that he needed to get some things done and a break from the detective work," said Victor as he pulled out a pastry from the box. "But don't worry. I made sure he took food, warm clothes and money."

"What's this _Isola Segreta_?" Bo asked.

"Hush, Bo! Not now," said Prosper.

"And you just let him go?" Hornet asked. "Why would you do that?"

"Look, it's hard to remember that Scipio's mind is like a child's when he looks so much like his father," Victor protested. "But I know why he went."

"Why?" Hornet asked exasperated.

"Because he doesn't want to be a grown-up anymore," said Prosper flatly.

"Prosper knows what he's talking about," Victor nodded approvingly. "I noticed lately Scipio seemed a bit down. Being an adult isn't what he thought it would be. And if your story about the merry-go-round of the Merciful Sisters was the reason why he's so old now, I bet you my tortoises that he went back to go fix it."

"I don't understand," Bo complained. He knew some sort of magic was involved with Scipio's transformation, but didn't know any of the details of Prosper and Scipio's trip to the Isola Segreta.

Prosper explained that the merry-go-round was on the Isola Segreta and how Scipio had ridden it to become a grown-up.

Bo sat in awe. "Let's help him! I don't like Scip as a grown-up, anyway."

"No," Prosper said firmly. "Absolutely not. Only trouble happens on that island. Plus, it gives me the creeps."

Hornet shook Prosper's arm. "We should check on Scipio to see if he's okay. I don't care if he _looks_ like a grown-up, he's still just like one of us."

Hornet could talk him into anything. "Alright," Prosper sighed. "But we'll just have a look, and we'll get back before it gets dark, okay? And Bo, you're staying with Victor until we get back."

"No!" Bo protested. "I'm already eight! Why can't you let me have some fun for once, Prop?"

"The Isola Segreta is not a fun place. And it's not very safe for eight-year-olds," replied Prosper hastily. "Maybe next time." He tried to ruffle Bo's hair, but Bo ducked and turned away from his brother. He crossed his arms and pouted.

Prosper frowned and beckoned to Hornet. "Come on, let's go," he said quietly. "You'll take care of him, won't you, Victor?"

"Why of course. I'll take him out to ice cream or something. Wouldn't that be fun, Bo?" asked Victor as he sipped his coffee.

Bo glared at Victor.

"Come on," Hornet tugged at Prosper's arm. Prosper glanced at Bo, but then followed Hornet in search for their friend.


End file.
